


What's in a name?

by Kangoo



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: (in the case of wranduin), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fae & Fairies, Implied/referenced Relationship, M/M, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28717158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: Anduin accidentally gives his name to a fae. Wrathion knows just the person to ask for help.
Relationships: Illidan Stormrage/Kael'thas Sunstrider, Wrathion & Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	What's in a name?

**Author's Note:**

> maybe the reason i never posted those on ao3 is because none of them go anywhere but you know what? im fine with that  
> written a few years ago, lightly revised before posting

Wrathion has been pacing in Anduin’s living room for half an hour now, and it’s making his head turn.

“Would you _stop_? You wearing a hole in my floor isn’t going to help.”

Wrathion stops dead in his track and whirls around, pointing an accusing finger at Anduin and almost stabbing him with his overly long nails.

“ _You,_ ” He hisses, “Have given your name to a _fae_. You are in no place to say what’s going to help.”

Anduin crosses his arms on his chest and frowns, but doesn’t say anything. Soon enough Wrathion falls next to him on the couch with a deep sigh, rubbing his hand across his face.

“Damn it, Anduin, I raised you better than that.”

“You’re _literally_ five year old, Wrathion. The only thing you’ve raised is my arterial tension.”

Wrathion puts his hand on Anduin’s mouth to shut him up and keeps going, ignoring his friend’s outraged mumbling.

“You gave your name to a fae and you don’t even know who it was. This is a problem, Anduin. A big, awful, terrible problem.”

Well, it doesn’t feel like it to Anduin, but by now he’s learned to trust that trouble will always follow Wrathion; and, considering they’re roommates, trouble will follow _him_ by association.

He pushes Wrathion’s hand off his mouth. If he holds it for a moment longer than necessary before letting it go, well- it’s no one’s business but his own.

“Alright, chill. How bad is it really.”

Wrathion straightens up and clears his throat. “Well, in short: that guy, whoever he was, kind of— owns you, now. Names are everything to the fae. That’s why you’re not supposed to _give yours to them._ ”

He’s not sure how to feel about that. “Oh,” He settles on. “That’s not good.”

“I expected a little more terror but that’s about it, yes.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Wrathion leans back, trying to appear detached. He, of course, fails miserably, since Wration has never managed to not look like he cares a great deal about everything in his life. “ _We_?”

“Oh don’t play this game with me, you’re _at least_ half the reason I’m in trouble and you know it.”

He chuckles. “Alright, my prince, I’ll help.”

“So, where do we start?”

Wrathion sighs once again. “The Spring court, I’m afraid.”

.

“So if we’re trying to get to a fae court— explain to me why we’re looking for it here?”

Here being ‘in front of a residential building in the middle of the city’ and not, say, an ancient forest, or a pile of sacred rocks or something.

“All dragons are banned from the Spring court, for some reason,” Wrathion replies with the air of someone who knows exactly which reason. “But I know a guy who can get us in.”

“How reassuringly ominous.”

Wrathion punches in the code and the door opens. They climb the stairs in silence, Anduin following Wrathion to a seemingly random door. It’s similar to any other in the corridor and yet feels distinctively _other_ , somehow. From the corner of his eyes, it seems to be glowing faintly. Wrathion knocks lightly, waits a second, then knocks some more. He’s about to try a third time — and Anduin is about to stop him — when the door opens, revealing—

A seven foot tall, heavily tattooed, half naked man. He looks as if he just woke up despite the fact that it’s close to four in the afternoon.

He glares at Wrathion.

“What are you doing here.” 

Calling it a question would be a gross misinterpretation of his tone. It’s more of a complaint, or a subtle threat.

“Illidan, my buddy, my pal—” The man, Illidan apparently, quirks an eyebrow, and Wrathion grins but cuts his bullshit short. “I need to talk to your boyfriend ASAP.”

Illidan closes the door.

“Wait—“

Illidan cracks open the door. Just enough to glare at Wrathion some more. He clearly isn’t a morning (or afternoon?) person.

“This dumbass here,” Wrathion gestures at an annoyed Anduin, who rolls his eyes. “Gave his name to a fae. We don’t know who or why but it would be better for everyone involved if we could deal with this _quickly_ and _efficiently_.”

Illidan rubs his forehead but steps back and lets them in. Wrathion swaggers in, his usual cocksure smirk on his lips. Anduin kind of shuffles his feet as he follows, already dreading the ordeal that this whole thing will be.

“Seat your ass somewhere and don’t touch anything, I’ll be back in a second.”

And on these words, Illidan strides off. Wrathion looks at a the large library with interest, takes a step toward it—

“I said: _don’t touch anything_!”

Summoning a fae happens to be a far easier process than Anduin expected. Or maybe it’s because Illidan is apparently sleeping with that particular fae, but what does he know?

In the end, here’s what he does know: Illidan brings a large mirror from his room — golden and decorated with beautiful, intricate patterns, and looking incredibly out of place in Illidan’s apartment, says a few words under his breath, and when he steps back his reflection stays in place. 

Momentarily distracted by the fact that the man carried a mirror of this size as if it weighs nothing, Anduin takes a moment to realize that the reflection is _changing_. It becomes smaller, skinnier, pale and golden, until in the mirror stands a completely different man. Except he is not a man, not quite. His ears are long and pointed, his eyes glowing an emerald green, and his whole attire — crimson and gold and wholly impractical — seems to come out of a fantasy movie rather than reality. More than that though it’s his _presence_ that gives Anduin pause. Even through the glass he can feel the weight of the fae’s attention on them. It reminds him of Wrathion, a little, which only cements the otherworldliness of the man in the mirror.

The strange figure rests his hand on the glass and pushes ever so slightly. It gives off like water under his fingers and in a step he crosses the boundary of the glass and into Illidan’s apartment. 

“Illidan, my love,” He says, and smiles. It’s a beautiful smile. It also holds little sincerity, and as his eyes settle on the two other men in the room Anduin can’t help but shudder. They’re not welcome here. “Calling so soon?”

“I’m afraid this isn’t a social call, no.” Illidan gestures tiredly toward Wrathion. “He wants your help.”

The fae’s eyes follow the movement and his expression turns icy. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Why isn’t anyone ever happy to see me?” Wrathions complains.

Anduin has a pretty good idea why, but he doesn’t voice it.

**Author's Note:**

> come haunt me on [tumblr](https://youngster-monster.tumblr.com/)


End file.
